


Dang Daisy

by Ursa_99



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Doctor Clarke Griffin, F/M, Hopper the service dog, How's my writing, I Tried, No seriously i want to know tips or good websites if ya'll know any, Should be getting ready for my senior seminar, Teacher Bellamy Blake, Trying to make something more fluffy and less death and gore, based on a post, just a hint of angst, ooc as always
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursa_99/pseuds/Ursa_99
Summary: She had a fondness for the quirky people here.But every place had odd ones. Murphy and her notwithstanding.And her little flower thief was starting to look like a local odd ball.The normal rustling of bushes, the sharper cracks of the fruitful growth brought Clarke out of her thoughts. The man swore, it wasn’t unusual, though with the number of twigs and branches he was breaking was more than his normal stealthy self.He was off his game today





	1. Chapter 1

Like Clockwork, the same man came by her house, plucking up a flower from her yard. Her _hard-worked_ yard, damn thing didn’t sprout a single _weed_ till she reintroduced nutrients into the soil.

Crop rotation man, poor soil didn’t stand a chance with the chap who lived here before. Not even shad and water could bring back the original grass. No wonder why the place was so cheap.

Clarke watched from the balcony shielded by the early morning clouds that promised rain. Most people wouldn’t be up at this time…well sane people wouldn’t be up, and Clarke was far from sane.

She shook her head, she needed the escape from everything really, from her overbearing mother, her stressful job, from the disasters of past relationships, escape from reality in general.

She needed to find herself again, focus on herself for once and not give away until there was nothing left but a shell. It happened once when her father died and her world fell apart, it took years to get back on her feet…at least she was able to catch herself this time before there was nothing to lose.

The area here was quiet and kind, mostly…Murphy came to mind, the biggest of the local assholes but he was one of the few who understood her and her want to get away. Clarke was pretty sure he was from the same city as her, but they were both drunk and yelling at the world to notice a shared childhood city, “the two cockroaches to see through and survive all the bullshit”, that’s what he called their little broken duet.

This place was _very_ different from the metropolis she came from, but it rang with her on some level unable to be expressed in human words. She wondered why she didn’t go back home, to her home-home, to the house where she grew up with her parents when most of the bad in the world was outside their little gates, close enough to know true natures of the world, but not close enough to be sucked in.

If she had to hazard a guess there were to many memories and way more repressed emotions. So, Clarke got the next best thing, her own farm. It was half way from her city to her old home of ghosts, is she needed she could travel, but this land gave her peace with her fruits and vegetables, her little herds of cow, goat, and chicken.

She was thinking of starting with some sheep as her next project. Clarke had the money even with two of the locals she hired, the two in question were named Monty and Jasper, both of which became her first friends here. They were as amazing at what they did, Monty was a smaller of the two, but he had a knack for growing all sorts of flowers and plants; the look on the man’s face when she said she would get them a greenhouse after Monty helped her bring her soil back to life brought tears to his eyes and it warmed her heart that he found his passion. Jasper on the other hand was the second part of the duo, and though his heart was one of the biggest, his clumsy ness was just as big. She didn’t know how but he could get all her goats when they were stuck in her trees (she still didn’t know why those little alien eyed creatures do that, but she settled on building a platform later that they just adored) but the next thing she knew Monty would be hollering over the radio saying Jasper broke his hand, or got bit, or somehow fell and faceplanted into the only cactus in a mile of the barn and needed to be patched up. _Again_.

Jasper’s constant accidents aside, he was amazing with her animals, though not large in number like some of the bigger farms, her had a personality that Jasper joked was identically like hers, and as much as Clarke hated to admit it, she was stubborn and bossy at the _best_ of times.

Clarke smiled at the little home she had going here, she’d have to return to work soon, but she wanted to keep this place going. Monty and Jasper were residents of the town but she offered them a place to stay here at the second house on the property, it needed to be refurbished but the two men asked if they could do it themselves. She always turned her head the other way when they brought in the distillery equipment, home crafted and authentic, their moonshine was some of the best; minus the heart attack she almost gave them when she came for some tools Jasper had and found them in the equivalence of their pants down drinking.

Oh, the look on their faces as they pleaded with her not to call the cops, her face no doubt in a frown from losing one of her chickens to a raccoon when she came stomping over for the fence tools.

Normally, she’s all for the trash pandas, they were her little team back in the city, and now when they’re in her trash or playing with the goats it was fine but after two dozen dead chickens coming from one individual it was simple to just remove or exterminate. It was like telling a patient not to do something and they do it just to piss you off and they end up dead anyway.

Clarke sighed, she didn’t want to abandon her career as a doctor, she loved helping people, but she was starting to feel that the face pace adrenaline junky in her for the trauma center was starting to wear off. Maybe she could start a practice out here, this place was by no means small compared to the middle of nowhere Midwest but it also wasn’t filling over the brim with constant bodies moving every which way, it really was a perfect balance in the spaced-out abundant town of Arkadia.

Yeah, she’ll think about it. She had a fondness for the quirky people here.

But every place had odd ones. Murphy and her notwithstanding.

And her little flower thief was starting to look like a local odd ball.

The normal rustling of bushes, the sharper cracks of the fruitful growth brought Clarke out of her thoughts. The man swore, it wasn’t unusual, though with the number of twigs and branches he was breaking was more than his normal stealthy self.

He was off his game today.

Memorizing where the man was, he was currently taking residence in _her _little none production plot trying to put the branches back. Clarke couldn’t help the snort that came out, really, she couldn’t, if he wanted some flowers he could have asked, or if he was going to take her plants he could have taken them from the soil and not kill them as fast.

She walked back into her room taking the pistol from her nightstand and put it in her the holster around her leg, it was purely for cautionary measures and the occasional rabid or angry animal that would come around. Hopper was lounging in her own bed, perking up when she saw Clarke go for the door.

The flower man’s saving grace was that Monty and Jasper told her of something in her personal yard killing the flowers, that and the fact that Clarke couldn’t get Hopper to move from the nice AC system in the house.

Yeah, her German Shepard was a good guard dog, when it was cool enough. She could just imagine the state of her house if Hopper brought in the other animals just so she didn’t have to go outside…

Clarke rubbed Hopper’s head, and the dog yawned flopping back down.

“Lazy beast” she muttered with a smile.

The dog sneezed and rolled onto her back; belly exposed for a possible petting.

Clarke shook her head, looks like she was going to have to get another dog from a breeder, something preferable to herding her animals. She knew Jasper suggested getting one or two Anatolian shepherds, maybe she’ll do that. Though she had to guess that Jasper was sweet for the daughter of the shop keeper; Maya was her name, and she could often be found helping her father selling the local produce.

Besides Hopper would love someone to play with that won’t headbutt her, the memorable experience of meeting the baby goats was all on camera.

Clarke bounded down the stairs, practically jumping in her boots before she was out the door. If she was honest, she was quite eager to give the man a lashing of words, and to find out who he was. It wasn’t like he took her flowers each day, but it was often enough of an occurrence that’s been going on for almost as long as the first flower popped up on the barren land.

It wasn’t long till she found him, stuck in one of her rose bushes. Damn, he was stuck in her favorite one and would likely tear it out whether he means to or not.

“Hey stranger” she called. The man whipped around, startled like a deer and looking just as willing to bolt. She stepped closer to the man, he didn’t seem to much older than her, he had a nice suite on which only confused her more.

“Got a name” she asked, hand dropping lower toward firearm as a statement the other rested on her hip. She raised a brow at the man.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy had wondered past old man Wallace’s place months ago when he first spotted life coming back to the land. It was sad really, what happened to the family, though he wasn’t sorry in the slightest for the man’s son.

Wallace Sr was a good old man, retired stockbroker _and _lawyer. The man was filthy rich, and while his heart was made of gold, his son was more than willing to take it all away into the stock market and _questionable _businesses, and not the unpopular store type. One day someone came for Wallace Jr and the old man did everything in his power to free his son, even if the man knew his son was in the wrong.

Bellamy would always shake at the memory, remembering the SWAT beat down the doors of Emori’s local but renowned pub, _Dead Zone_, to drag the asshole away. Wallace Jr didn’t seem to worry about his escape from police custody and decided to get smashed at her bar where he and the others would help out till closing to wait to get beyond smashed.

Well, turns out the coward was already on something and when police and SWAT came, he barricaded himself, along with Bellamy, his friends, and the rest of the workers or patrons. Several were injured and three people were killed that day, the first death happened when Wallace Sr came to talk his son down but according to reports and the video cameras, someone must have dragged a pleading Wallace Sr away and it somehow set off his son.

So, little Jr decided to have a tantrum and started firing, the only saving grace for him and his friends were that they were behind the counter…all except for Gina. He didn’t see her go down, didn’t hear the stop of her heart beat, but he did hear her cry out in pain as others screamed around him.

He vaguely remembered that there were cries of “officer down” before a loud crash of glass flinging everywhere silenced the world. The image would be burned into his eyes for the rest of his days.

Gina, an officer, and an infant would never see their next birthday. They wouldn’t even see tomorrow.

They were ushered out and given to the doctors on standby, towns like theirs had the occasional drug bust, burglary, or assault, but never had they had such an event. They made national news, most likely from the Wallaces’ known name, but still…the Dead Zone became its name for a day, and for some time after.

Wallace Sr cried for his son that was riddled with bullet holes, but in a way, it didn’t matter that the police and SWAT killed the man, when they checked his blood content the man was practically overdosing with some toxic concoction. That may have been the sole fact why no more people were killed, Jr just didn’t have the capacity to do it.

Afterword Wallace Sr went around paying off any damage that his son has caused, to Emori, the families of the police and child that were no longer with them, to him and everyone else at that store who required therapy.

And it helped, but the town was never the same again, all of them still hurt; the only good that came from the tragedy was that the community came closer together and some of the local businesses brought attention to a place for people to come and visit.

The scars were still there though, amidst the crisp beaches, under the shadows of the hiking trails and in the valleys of their stores. He still wakes at night from time to time, screaming, begging, hoping that no more of his friends died; but like the town he was getting better, healing, and as much as he hated or loved it, time moved on like life knows no end of movement.

Bellamy stepped through the shrubbery as delicately as he could, but being lost in his head had him stepping into a burrow and tumbling into the beds around him.

“Fuckin’ shit sticks of Alexandria”

Thorns scratched and poked him, pulling at his clothes and skin. He couldn’t help but swear some more.

Today was just _great_.

He looked at the front door to the grand house, nothing. Good, the people weren’t home or up. Bellamy felt guilty about taking a couple of flowers every few weeks, but in his defense, he did leave some money and occasionally seeds when he found them in stock at the market.

Bellamy looked back at the house, who ever lived here now knows what they’re doing, when he first spotted the buddings of new foliage here he was astounded. Wallace Sr died of a broken heart that everyone knew even if the papers said heart attack in his sleep, and though the man was able to help with his volunteering or vast amounts of money he never seemed to do it for himself; if it was his self-imposed punishment or life finally winning Bellamy didn’t know, what little care Sr had for his place dwindled to nothing months after the death of his son, his wife having passed decades before, it was a sad tale, but it was good to see life go on.

The land never seemed to heal, not till something changed apparently. No one could figure out why the land went so easily into seemingly nothing but dirt to a field of beauty, yet it did.

Bellamy sighed and lifted a leg, he either threatened to put holes in his dress clothes or he threatened to pull up the beautiful bush he was in, possibly both with his luck.

He didn’t want to damage the plants, not when someone tried so hard to keep them alive and help them flourish. Bending down Bellamy tried to untangle himself, the one day he decides to do this is when he has a meeting at the museum _and_ has parent teacher conferences so he’s forced to go fancy for work instead of his normal jeans.

“Come on, come on” he managed to get one foot out but as soon as he did, he slid on the mud, crushing another bush in his wake.

He cringed and looked down, great, it was some sort of berry bush…maybe vinegar would get the stains out?

“Hey stranger” a voice called,

Bellamy whipped around, no one was up this early. What he didn’t expect though was to see a young woman staring at him. This really couldn’t be the person who took over the old man’s lands could it? She was too young.

“Got a name” her voice was dry and stern, normally an irritating combination to his ears but she made it work. Being cornered as he was, he would do what he unfortunately learned from Murphy, say something snarky, but held his tongue when he noticed her hand hang loosely from her side.

Next to a gun.

Bellamy gulped.

“I—uh…hi” He raised a hand, in an awkward greeting that was something between a high-five and a handshake.

The woman just looked at him, and while normally he wouldn’t mind such a thing, he was starting to feel really hot, or was it getting colder under the shade?

“Um—I can explain, really uhhh…” He was drawing a blank and couldn’t take his eyes of the metal. There was a beautiful shine to it, something that demanded respect after hundreds of years of evolution alongside man. And in the hands of someone capable a gun is used to protect, to defend and serve, but others…

Screams filled his head and that weird fuzzy sensation filled his head, he couldn’t swallow and he felt like he just ate sand.

“Hey, you in my plants can you hear me” He could feel the woman came closer, but she backed away startled.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke watched the man, he was very well looking, but his silence was starting to unnerve her. It’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for.

“I—uh…hi” The man looked a little lost, he stretched his hand out awkwardly. She made no move to take the greeting. Clarke did notice that the man was turning a bit pale for a complexion.

“Um—I can explain, really uhhh”

The man’s whole frame was shaking, Clarke wondered if he could see his extended hand quaking in the air between them. Mr. Shrubbery man took back his hand, teetering too much for her liking. It was to cool for a heat stroke and he look fit, nicely actually. He shouldn’t be having any problems.

The man looked like he was about to vomit.

“Hey, you in my plants can you hear me?” Clarke took a step forward, steeping around her landscaped rocks and little lichen patches, if he hit his head, he had a great chance of not waking up.

“NO STOP!!!”

The man’s yelling startled her; she swore under her breath.

Clarke didn’t know what was happening, he looked like he was having some sort of panic attack, but she didn’t know the man, and truth be told the fear radiating off him was eating away at her own nerves.

She took another step back, giving both of them some space, observing the man as he fell to his knees, muscles tight and pulsing. His hands gripping his head as his eyes bore into her.

His heavy breath rattled in the warming air, maybe she could make it back to the house and call Monty or Jasper. She should have brought her radio with her.

“Hey” she tried gently, voice low and friendly, the one she uses with her chickens and the young patients who didn’t know anything that was going on. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m a doctor”

The man seemed to refocus back on her for a second before trailing down her body, it took her a second to figure out he was looking at her gun. His pale face said everything besides trusting.

Clarke pursed her lips, it wasn’t the first time she was caught off guard by someone so seemingly lost or confused but harmless in appearance, how wrong she was; though another part of her could understand the reaction of the person before her, she’s seen what guns could do, the man must’ve had a bad experience with them. She couldn’t help the shiver that went up her spine, she was there at one time too.

“I’m Clarke, Clarke Griffin. You are” She didn’t step forward, but she did try to sound as friendly as she could.

The man’s hunched figure still shook, his hands curling around one another, as if he could warm them up from the cold that won’t leave.

When she was like that, Clarke had Hopper, who was just a puppy, maybe she could do something similar for this man. She had to play this at his pace though, if he was anything like her, he’d lash out.

It was a horribly feeling to have, like there was nothing in the world to make you feel safe, whatever fear he had was making him into an exposed nerve and he was reacting in kind.

She let the man take in his greedy breaths, clicking her tongue whenever his eyes started to roam down to her leg again, just like how she had to teach Hopper to keep away from the chickens.

When the man’s breaths were less labored, he looked at her.

“I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over—I was doing better…” the man gulped, “can you hide that or something, please”

Clarke took a deep breath, she doubted this man was a purposeful threat to her, that fear in his eyes was too much like what she’s seen in her own all those years ago, but ever since _then _she’s always cautious.

It hurts to look back and see the peaceful naivety of one’s self.

Looking at the man did nothing more than break her heart, tears were streaming down his face and he looked like a man who lost everything. He turned away, red reaching up his face, embarrassment and shame bleeding through.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the gun from her holster, her eyes never leaving the man’s face that whipped in her direction. He flinched away and she moved slower, pulling the back of her jeans away from the small of her back.

She made sure the weapon was set to safety before slipping it into the back of her jeans, pulling her arms back around she raised them in a placating manner. Her training kicking, she moved a leg forward but didn’t bring the rest of her body weight forward.

“I’m going to move forward, is that okay”

The man’s already red face grew brighter when the confusion of her question subsided, he looked down at his dirty shoes, but nodded none the less.

Clarke moved forward, arms still up. Step by step she approached him like a wounded animal, she was three feet away when she saw his hands stop wringing one another raw.

“I’m Bellamy Blake” He sheepishly smiled, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, the other hesitantly coming back out for a shake. “I’m—”

“It’s okay, how about I bring you into my house for some tea”

He looked startled again though the look of panic and fear was gone, still breathless he declined, “I can’t do than ma’am, not after scaring you and—” he cringed. “Taking your flowers…”

Clarke chuckled lightly; well this guy was certainly interesting and one of the odd balls.

“How about you can take my tea and I’ll feel better” she offered.

She knew that he wanted space, needed it actually, but she also knew that the feeling of having something or someone near could help one to ground themselves.

He shook his head, “No I insist, I shouldn’t be around someone, last time—I shouldn’t even be telling you this”

Clarke glared mildly at him, but still kept her smile so he didn’t feel on edge, she held up a finger “One, I’m a _doctor_, legit not lying, I can help, and two, it’s either tea with me so I can check up on you or I can get the _cops_”

The little color that appeared into his face drained again, “No, please don’t, I’ll take the tea…”

She sighed, Clarke didn’t like giving people ultimatums but sometimes they were for the best, she held out her hand.

Mr. Blake just looked at her outstretched hand and then to her, Clarke wiggled it in front of him again a more relaxed smile taking over her features.

“I’d prefer you don’t damage anymore of my personal garden thank you very much”

The man’s hand dwarfs her own, almost comically so.

Gently she helped him untangle the plant matter from his legs.

“There we go, good as new—mostly”

Mr. Blake snorted at her but didn’t say anything. She could still fill some tremors working their way through his body, Clarke patted the arm that was still in her grasp,

“Ready”

The man nodded, “yeah”

Clarke pulled him along slowly, keeping his arm tucked between her arm and her ribcage, she showed him the little chicks that ran in front of her yard and placed one in his cupped hands. It chirped irritated at being man handled but as soon as it felt the warmth it burrowed into his palms.

She stayed quiet and watch the man observe the little ball of fluff, he had the same expression when a few of the local kids would came by with Maya. There was just something warming when you see an expression of pure awe.

Gently tugging at his sleeve, she herded him towards her door, “You know” he mumbled, still looking back at the little chickens in her front yard, “Normally you take someone out on a date before taking them home”

Well if we could try to talk game the man must have been more at ease.

“Maybe I don’t like taking orders”

The man hummed behind her, but she didn’t look, instead she did her best to keep Hopper from hopping over her and at the man. There was a reason why she named her dog what she did.

“I don’t suppo—ah!”

Though Clarke knew she wasn’t a very big person and the hundred something-pound dog could easily go over her as well as through her if the dog so desired.

Hopper snarled at the man pushing him back out the door and biting at his arms.

“Hopper! Hopper it’s okay, he’s with me” Clarke pulled with all her strength at her shepherd. Hopper whined at her, curling around her before snarling at Mr. Blake, fangs flashing and lips curled back.

She looked up to see the man gripping the railing of her porch, “It’s okay, she’s friendly”

The man frowned at her, “Friendly my ass”

Clarke huffed, “How do _you _like strangers coming onto your property and messing with things”

She nodded in self-satisfaction when the man looked away in embarassment, she still needed to find out why he was even taking her flowers in the first place.

“Thought so, Hopper down”

The dog whined. Clarke bent down on a knee rubbing Hopper’s ears and kissing her head, “It’s okay girl, now down”

Clarke got back up and watched her shepherd slide half way before stopping and looking back at her, Clarke frowned and motioned for the dog to go down all the way. Hopper snorted and looked away nose high in the air.

“You’ve gotta—Hopper, down!”

Hopper threw her head around, awooing in distaste but finally complied with droopy ears and floppy tail. Hopper huffed again and kept her head turned away.

Clarke sighed, she’s never met such a handful of a dog before Hopper, turning back she motioned for the man to go into her home.

Slowly the man walked in giving a wide berth to the grumpy dog.

“Trouble in paradise with your steed, Princess”

Clarke frowned at the nickname but only motioned for Hopper to come back inside, which she eagerly did before spreading out on the couch like a bear rug. Mr. Blake nodded in the dog’s direction with a small smile.

“She’s testy” Clarke defended.

That somehow got a grin on the man’s face, “they say a pet is a reflection of the owner”

Clarke glared, sticking her tongue out and headed for the kitchen, if he was going to poke fun of her then he can fight the dog for a spot.

Rummaging in the cabinet she pulled out four cups, Monty and Jasper should be awake in the next hour or so and she knew they love her tea as much as she loves their moonshine.

“So…” a hesitant voice came from her living room, Mr. Blake was still standing in front of her couch eyeing the dog wearily whom was glaring back at him.

“She always this eager to meet people” the man muttered.

Clarke snorted, “God no, can’t keep her outside for longer than an hour, less I brace to fix a window. Again. I don’t bother with introductions to anyone but my farm hands and the local kids”

“Ouch”

She shrugged, “She’s actually a shepherd husky mix, and though practically everything else is shepherd, her eyes and personality are wholly husky”

“Ouch times two” he offered.

She poured hot water into the cups, “Is chamomile okay”

The man behind her nodded so she turned back to dig through her as Jasper put it, ‘Queen of England tea cabinet’. She pulled out the bags and let them steep.

“Thank you” His quiet voice somehow echoed through her large living room, he was still looking a little red, but she held no judgment here.

She offered him a smile. When her little duck timer went off, she brought the two cups over placing them on her table in front of the tv and sat on the ottoman. She patted the spot next to her, Hopper glaring at her the entire time with a whine.

“Hush you” Hopper pouted some more and buried her head under the pillows. Her nose peaked out cutely.

The man eased himself down, joints popping. He gently took the cup in his hands, blowing on it gently. He took a sip, watching her fury little gremlin tear up her couch.

“Ah…this is good” he offered.

She hummed, drawing a blanket around her. They stayed quiet, watching the sun start to peak over the trees.

“So, Princess, how long have you had her” he asked, pointing to the dog that was asleep already.

“Why do you keep calling me that _Daisy_” The man frowned at his own nickname and gestured around her home.

“Look how you live, the man who used to live here was filthy rich, and you have _nicer_ things than he had. Besides this is your _first _floor, I wonder what the rest of this mansion looks like. You did say you were a doctor, but even then…” he shrugged as if she knew exactly what he meant.

Clarke frowned, his ire for her material possessions couldn’t have left him to wanting her flowers, nor being such an ass.

“That’s none of your business, now how about you tell me why you keep taking my flowers. Out of all the produce I have on this land you choose the flowers from my garden, my _personal _garden. Not the beautiful native flowers, or the ones grown in the greenhouse for herbal properties and bouquets”

“That’s none of your business” His shoulders squared up and he started to breath more deeply. Hopper popped her head out growling and the man eased himself away from the two of them slightly.

Clarke didn’t say anything and removed the empty cup from his hands bringing them to the kitchen, when she came back, she sat next to Hopper who shuffled her head into her lap.

“I think I deserve an explanation, I have you on my game cameras. This has been happening for months”

The man looked shocked. He must not have even thought of that possibility.

“You just now said something” he asked.

She raised a brow, “I won’t lie, at first I was livid. I came to this place to get away from my own problems and then I find someone causing something else in my home”

Mr. Blake nodded. She continued,

“But then I saw a pattern, it was like clockwork. You would come every two weeks, pluck several of my flowers and be off on your way. Soon I became curious of why only my flowers, still am. One of my farm hands thought you were a picky rabbit”

He looked affronted at Monty’s description of him.

“I can assure you I am no rabbit ma’am”


End file.
